


Meeting the Devil Himself

by JamieS1025



Series: The Devil Wears Prada [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Fashion & Couture, Inspired by The Devil Wears Prada, M/M, Runway Magazine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieS1025/pseuds/JamieS1025
Summary: Viktor is Chief and Editor of Runway Magazine.Yuuri is just screwed.ORThe Devil Wears Prada AU no one asked for





	Meeting the Devil Himself

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for the AU's.

As Yuuri stood in the middle of the _Runway Magazine_ office watching the various staff members run around in panic, he wondered why he even applied for this job. He had spent the past four years at one of the top universities studying journalism and even produced his own piece exposing the janitor’s union. He was an incredibly good journalist and an even better employee. He couldn’t even imagine working at a chaotic office like _Runway_ , but the job could score him a position at any major publication in the city.

“Move people,” the little blonde, Yuri Plisetsky as he had introduced himself as, yelled. People around the office hurried around. One woman pulled on a pair of high-heeled stilettos while another dumped a brand-new salad into the trash can. A well-dressed man grabbed as many coats as he could carry and ran down the hall. Yuri busied himself with a bottle of sparkling water, a glass, and spreading an assortment of fashion magazines strategically around the mahogany desk.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Yuuri asks, fumbling with the bottom of his sweater in a nervous habit. Yuri takes no pity on him and simply yells for him to shut up and sit down, or leave. Yuuri chooses a seat at the empty desk near him just as another tall blonde pushed through the double glass doors.

“Oh, _mon cheri_ , what is he doing here so early? I thought we had until nine.” The man hands some files to Yuri who takes them over to his own desk and flips through them hurriedly.

“Facialist canceled last minute. Don’t expect a good mood.”

The man groans, glancing in Yuuri’s direction. A predatory smirk crosses his features. “Oh, but who is this?”

“No one important,” Yuri snaps before Yuuri can even answer for himself and pushes the other man back out of the glass doors. Yuuri is left alone in the office and wonders if he should stay. From the sound of it, this job is a complete waste of time. There is no way he can compete with the people of _Runway Magazine_.

Just as he is about to stand and gather his resume, Yuri is throwing open the door for a tall, handsome man with the brightest silver hair Yuuri has ever seen. The man doesn’t even look in his direction as he rattles off a list of phone calls to make and meetings to schedule, before shrugging off his white fur coat and tossing it over Yuri’s busy hands.

“Understand?” The man asks but does not wait for a reply as he moves into the private office ahead. He stops to glance back, cerulean eyes avoiding Yuuri altogether. “Who is that?”

Yuri side-steps to hide Yuuri behind him. “No one important. HR thought it would be funny to send him for an interview, which I was completing before your arrival- “.

“And you have been useless at that,” The man interrupts. “I will take it from here. Send him in.”

The man takes a seat at the large desk and begins idly flipping through one of the magazines. Yuri curses, dropping the items in his hand on his desk and yanking Yuuri to his feet. He snags the tie around his neck and forcefully yanks it off in-between Yuuri’s protest. He pays no attention to him as he shoves him toward the private office.

“I did you a favor. That tie is hideous,” Yuri hisses in his ear and nods to the man before them. “That is Viktor Nikiforov, Chief and Editor of Runway Magazine, so please try not to completely fuck this up. It looks bad on me.”

There is no time to think as Yuri pushes him into the open doors and walks away. Viktor looks up skeptically. He places an elbow on the desk and props his chin in his open palm. “And you are?”

“Uh… I- I’m Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki,” he introduces and internally cringes. So much for a successful interview.

“Yuuri,” Viktor repeats, accent washing over the word beautifully. God, why did Viktor have to be so attractive. Yuuri was usually more composed than this. “And what brings you to _Runway_ Magazine?”

“I majored in journalism and decided to move to New York on a whim to start my career,” Yuuri informs and moves forward to set his resume on Viktor’s desk. Said man merely glances at the folder but makes no move to collect it. “If I am being honest, I need the job. I have an extensive resume. I work hard. I’m sure I can manage.”

Viktor’s hums and leans back in his chair, gaze calculating. “So, you waltz into an interview at the top fashion magazine on a whim? Before today you probably never knew my name. You have absolutely no fashion sense. I doubt you have ever read _Runway_.”

“Well, I think fashion sense would be up to the individual…”

“Oh no, that was a fact,” Viktor interrupts. He leans forward again to thumb through his magazine. “Anyone else would kill for a chance at this job, and yet, here you are merely asking for a job to pay the bills.”

“Mr. Nikiforov…”

“That will be all,” Viktor stated and waves off toward the doors.

Yuuri bubbles with heat at the dismissal and turns sharply on his heel to exit. He makes it to the door before he spins back around. “You know, I might not be up to the latest trends but I am a good person and a hard worker. I would never take a job as just a job, which maybe you would know if you didn’t treat everyone like garbage.” He does not wait for a reply and shoves through the glass doors.

Yuuri doesn’t even stop until he is standing on the street, glancing back up at the modern skyscraper. He curses. So much for securing a job today. Hopefully, his roommate, Phichit, wouldn’t mind covering the rent one more month. Yuuri sighs and his phone begins vibrating insistently in his pocket.

He does not recognize the number but answers anyway. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you, pig?” A voice shouts in his ear. Yuuri double checks the number again.

“Who is this?”

The voice mutters a series of curses. “I don’t know how you managed it but Viktor actually hired your ass. You need to get back to the office now.”

“Yuri?”

“No shit dumbass. Now hurry the fuck up.” The line clicks dead.

Yuuri glances back up at the building in front of him, shocked. A smile spreads across his face.

His phone vibrates again with a text message.

_9296875200 4:15 PM: Any day now, pig, like before I’m dead. -_-_


End file.
